Spring is here- and apparently, it’s an inspiring one.
Recently I was out in my little personal haven aka the courtyard of which I am extremely fond- and I thought, Ari.. I call myself Ari… it’s so peaceful and mellow here- why don’t you write out here?
And you know.. I couldn’t think of a good reason why not…
… so I set up one little corner to be my writing nook.
And I woke up this morning (as one tends to do), and went out to water all my plants. The honeysuckle was all abloom and the sun was warm and there was a nice soft breeze.. and I thought.. Ari, why don’t you write out here right now?
So I did.
And I wrote more in one sitting than I have in quite a while. Well enough that I think I’ve got a whole novella going here, one that I think will make some of my readers super happy.
You see, what I’m beating around all the bushes to tell you is this- there’s going to be a continuation of Nessa’s story. I thought I’d said all I had to say about her, but it turns out I haven’t. My early readers tell me I’m on the right track, and I’m feeling very good about saying something that needs to be said as opposed to just milking a character because it’s easy.
So, sometime this year there will be a new Nessa story available.
And because I’m feeling just so disgustingly pleased with it.. I’m going to share the first little bit. Please bear in mind, this is a draft, and if you haven’t read through all of Nessa’s adventures to date, spoilers ahead.
Hope you enjoy it- and the rest of the tale once I’m ready to sign, seal, and deliver.
There’s things that I wish I had been told about the mystical, unimaginable state of being a grown up.
Some of them are fairly prosaic, about always reading all the fine print. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. Vampires are charming, but that’s because, like everyone else, they need to eat. Never make a significant purchase at a county fair. If the service is free, then you’re the product. There’s no such thing as a free lunch (though, come to think of it, that’s kind of going back to the vampires again.)
And if an extremely powerful entity makes a deal with you, they ain’t doing it for the warm fuzzies.
That’s what I kept telling myself through a miserably rainy week in Pennsylvania as I served as the Queen of Love and Beauty at a medieval festival.
Now, at the time, I desperately needed the assistance and protection of someone much more powerful than the adversaries I was up against. and they needed me. But you see, I missed that fine print part of things- my cooperation extended far beyond the crisis.
How far beyond?
It’s been more than ten years since I agreed to serve as the manifestation of the Maiden on this plane of existence. To be fair, ninety nine days out of a hundred, I go about my own business, living my own life. The youngest aspect of the goddess, to give her full credit. definitely pulls her weight around here. As I’ve run into my counterparts, as one does from time to time, they have expressed a certain wistfulness for life before (or after) their duties have run their course. Or maybe the world we live in already does a solid enough job of worshipping youth, so that the Mother and Crone aspects need a little extra oomph to be appreciated.
And let me be super clear about this- I’m no more or less pretty to look at than the next hundred girls you’ll see passing you on the street. If I have learned anything through my years of service, it’s that all of the glamours of the Maiden- the exuberance, tenderness, innocence, passion, hope, and joy- every woman I’ve ever met and will never meet can embody each face of them at will. As easily as she remembers a first love, or just being young and alive, the Maiden’s blessing is upon them all.
In case you missed it- that was literally me saying that every woman is beautiful, it’s all in how she uses her power to see herself. And then to project it.
So for ten years now, ninety nine days out of the hundred, life is a little cabin in the woods, nestled in the Jemez of New Mexico. I’d give you the address, but it’s really hard to find and we don’t exactly welcome visitors anyway. Over the years, our little spread has grown, through opportunities to acquire other land parcels, and need to provide housing for the apprentices that have come.
For come they have, in a steady stream. Ranging from early teens to full blown adults, empaths have come from all the corners of the map for what I could teach them. I have been told that, in magickal ability terms, I am something of a genius, and that I could be using my abilities to break all the barriers and delve deeper into the psyches of men and the others that cross into this world.
I don’t think I have that right. The poet said the grave is a fine and private place- well, I think it’s the mind that should be private. I had and have no desire to be anyone’s weapon or tool. I could even temper what it is I teach to my students, keeping them from knowing of the subtler ways of working around someone’s will. But I prefer to teach the theory, and let them wrestle with their own decisions from a moral perspective. Most of the people that come to me are looking for peace from the steady beat of the fears and demands of other minds against their own, and so the topic never moves even into the academic realm.
Less common are Luke’s students. Sometimes they are angels, sometimes demons, or those that got in their way. Over the years, I’ve gotten to the point that I rarely bother to ask- in the end, if they got here following Luke’s star, they all need the same care. At times, they’ve feared humans entirely, andI’m not ashamed to say that I have drawn on all my skills as an empath as well as the gifts of the Maiden herself to exude the qualities of peace, gentleness, and innocence.
They come around. Luke shows them the world in small doses, then gets them hooked on pizza rolls, Star Wars, and creamy peanut butter.
Then I subvert them with crunchy peanut butter. We each win about half of those gentle battles for the souls of our guests, and feel deep down that each of us is one hundred percent in the right.
When Luke doesn’t have someone in residence, he busies himself by playing our caretaker. All of the cabins now have running water and solar power, though the power installation came along with a few instances that made me glad Luke isn’t exactly a normal person.
Once his hair grew back, I quit lecturing him and gracefully let the matter drop.
One of the other effects of his status has led to an exorbitant amount of money being spent on dog and cat food. To be fair, it’s probably also one of the reasons Luke and I are Luke and I- as a remnant of his unusual origins, he exudes an aura of peace and calm and a kind of rightness with all things in the world. It’s singularly soothing company for an empath.
And every stray for twenty miles ends up on our doorstep, wanting nothing more than to bask in the comforts of being around Luke. For his part, Luke lavishes them with love and affection, letting them follow at heels wherever he goes. By some agency known to him alone, none of them fight or come to harm under his care. Sometimes, they are genuinely lost, and we make sure they find their way home. Most of them end up staying.
There is one exception- a cranky corgi that I suspect was someone’s familiar at one point. Casey has adopted me and reminds me that while my name may be on the deed, she’s the one in charge at our house. She accompanies me, with a long suffering sigh, as I walk with the apprentices in the woods, imparting lessons that I walk on the tightrope hoping are right and good for them.
And on the nights when the full moon calls, Casey throws aside all her dignity and pelts alongside me while we race through the darkness.
When I end up on these little jaunts, Casey has a pattern. If I’m only gone for a day, I must endure her enthusiastic inspection and overly exuberant snuggles when I get home. Two to three days and something personal to me gets shredded. Any longer than that, and I get an equal amount of time of the silent treatment. No, I don’t know how she can tell time.
Curiouser and Curiouser 